Thicker Than Water
by Marius Sidorov
Summary: A novelization of Fire Emblem: Blazing Sword. Part III: Secrets.
1. Part I: Meeting

**Thicker Than Water**

_A Fire Emblem: Blazing Sword novelization._**  
**

**Part I: **A Meeting

* * *

_i have never been one to stay in a single place all my life – _

_the winds of fate have kept me moving always.

* * *

_

It was not often that she found herself far from the remains of the Lorca encampment. The frigid winter following the massacre had seen to that, and she still marveled at how she had managed to survive on her own during those long cold months.

She stopped walking and took a moment to allow her eyes heavenward, lips murmuring a soft prayer in praise of the earth and sky and all the powers that surrounded them. Though she had no training in the seeing-arts of the shamans and wise-women of her people she still fancied that she could feel the thrum of life-energy surrounding her – in the long blades of the plainsgrass and the insects and rodents that buried beneath the soil and the birds that soared high overhead.

She thought she heard it too, a far-off cry that sounded increasingly human with each passing second. Without warning the sound stopped, and she felt a thrill of unnamed energy run through her just as it had half a year ago. Something was going to happen, she realized with a start. Something, though she did not know if it would be good or bad.

She ran instead.

* * *

The first thing he noticed was the pain – sharp and biting in the shallow wounds that covered his face and arms and harsher in the deeper cuts, the throbbing in his muscles, and the dull ache in his leg that had been his constant companion for the last fourteen years.

Pain was pain. He could live with it – lessen it with a few or more pints if he could – and then it would be gone. At least he was alive.

Awareness came next. He was lying beneath some kind of blanket. The fabric was rough but not unpleasant to the touch, and beneath him he could feel the comforting hardness of a bedroll of some sort. At least he wasn't out in the open anymore, left for the buzzards and other scavengers.

But if he wasn't where he had fallen, _someone_ must have moved him – for all he knew, he was still in danger. He couldn't afford to let his guard down.

He opened one eye and then the other, then slowly raised himself to a sitting position. He seemed to be in a dwelling of some sort – a small fire burned in the middle of the dirt floor and he raised his eyes to see the smoke trailing lazily out of the small space through a hole in the ceiling; afternoon light shone in through the small opening. Aside from the bedroll he lay on and a crudely made stool there was no furniture – a few mats around the small fire for sitting and a pile of animal-skin bags resting against the dwelling's circular wall.

The flap of the dwelling opened and a girl crawled in. She looked at him warily but smiled nonetheless.

"So you are awake," she said. She spoke the common language of Elibe, but her words were thick with the lilting accent of the plainsmen.

He nodded slowly. "Mm. I suppose I am."

The girl took a seat beside the fire and looked at him. "I am Lyn," she said. "Of the Lorca tribe. I found you on the plains."

"Mark." A pause. "Of everywhere and nowhere." He looked at the girl – Lyn. "I'm a traveler."

Lyn nodded. "I guessed as much from your clothing, but you seem too poorly equipped to be travelling on your own."

Mark looked away and scratched his chin; the rasp of his nails against his whiskers filled the small dwelling. "What's it to you?" he asked shortly.

She clenched her jaw. "When I found you, you were passed out on the ground, covered in cuts and bruises. The only thing I could find was this." Lyn stood up and walked to the circular edge of the dwelling, stooping for a moment to pick something from the floor before returning to her place by the fire. "Here," she said. "Is this yours?"

Mark looked at the item in her hands and felt a jolt as he recognized the smooth dark wood and the numerous nicks and cuts across its surface, even though it had been broken unevenly into three separate pieces. He ran a hand over one of the splintered ends. "Yes," he told her, "it's mine."

"What is it?"

"My cane." Mark ran a hand over one of the broken ends and swore as splinter pricked the flesh at the base of his thumb. "Ah, shit." He raised his hand to his mouth.

Lyn blinked. "A… cane?"

Mark simply lifted the corner of the blanket and pointed at his left leg; even under the material of his breeches she could see how it bent awkwardly to the side in the middle of his shin – he was a cripple.

"I – I am sorry," she said. "I did not mean to pry…"

He shrugged. "I've been living with this damned leg for over ten years – it's all right."

Tucking her skirt beneath her legs, Lyn crossed her arms over her chest and looked at Mark curiously. "I do not mean to pry," she said, "but what – "

Her words were cut off by a loud crash and the sound of men yelling. Lyn rose to her feet quickly, her expression suddenly wary. "Stay here, Mark," she said. "I will be back." She turned and lifted the entry flap to the dwelling cautiously, poking her head out slowly before scrambling back in.

"What is it?" Mark asked as Lyn bustled around, pulling small packets from a bag on the floor and tucking them into a pouch at her waist and strapping a long sheathed blade to her side.

"Bandits." She pulled on her gloves and knelt at the entrance flap again. "They are probably from the mountains – they do not look too dangerous, but somebody must stop them before they do anything." Lyn lifted the dwelling's flap and looked at Mark pointedly. "Stay here," she said to him. "There are only a few of them; I will be back soon." With that she crept silently out of the dwelling, and then she was gone.

Mark looked at the spot where the girl had knelt earlier. "Damn," he muttered as he threw the covers off him and struggled to stand up. His left leg throbbed in protest but it wasn't anything he couldn't handle. "Sometimes I'm too nice for my own good."

He used the curved walls of the dwelling to support him as he limped to the entrance flap. With a groan he lowered himself until he could pull himself through, his bad leg dragging uselessly behind him.

The bright sunlight was harsh after the cool darkness of the dwelling and as Mark lifted a hand to shield his eyes he spotted a flurry of movement out of the corner of his eye – Lyn. The girl was swiftly creeping away from a still body lying on the dry grass, body close to the ground to avoid detection from the other to bandits who waited in the clear space between the two huts; her blade glistened wetly with spilled blood.

So she could handle herself well in a fight. Mark watched silently from the safety of the dwelling's entrance as Lyn swiftly cut down another bandit; the man managed to gurgle a warning to another waiting at a similar circular dwelling – a _ger_, he thought they were called now that he had a better look at it – before dying, and Mark froze as the brigand turned toward Lyn and glared.

"That son of a _bitch_," Mark said through clenched teeth as he recognized the brigand Lyn fought. The girl was holding up well against the brigand, and Mark found himself grinning in grim satisfaction when the big man finally fell. With the bandits dead he raised himself, supporting his weight on the wall of the hut behind him as Lyn made her way back.

"Mark!" Her face was flushed and shiny with sweat. "I told you to wait for me inside."

He shrugged and began to limp toward the body of the fallen brigand at the other ger. "Oh well," he said gruffly.

Lyn followed after him. "Where are you going?"

Mark pointed to the slain brigand. "That bastard and his cronies left me to _die_ in the middle of nowhere."

"What?" Lyn slowed her pace and fell into step beside him.

"They stole my horse, took my supplies, broke my cane and beat me and left me to the vultures, all for their own amusement." He looked down at the girl beside him and then at the ger. "Help me over there."

Lyn obliged wordlessly and let Mark lean on her as they made their way to the run-down hut, passing the broken and charred remains of other structures that had started to become overrun with grass.

"What happened here?" Mark muttered. "Everything seems so dead…"

Beside him Lyn tensed up and the subject was dropped; neither said anything until they reached the brigand's body and Mark asked Lyn to help him to the ground.

As Mark began to search the body Lyn wandered around the ger – behind it she found a gray gelding tethered to an old post, eyes rolling in fear as he struggled at his bonds.

She approached the beast cautiously, one hand raised to placate him. "Hush, brother," she said softly. "You are safe now." She placed her hand on one warm flank, murmuring softly in the tongue of her people until the gelding finally calmed down. She soon heard Mark's limping gait as he approached them behind the ger with his hands full of items from the brigand's corpse, his bad leg dragging uselessly through the tall grass.

"That's Elec," he said. He shifted so that his weight remained on his right leg.

Lyn nodded. "He is a good horse," she told him. "It is a good name."

Mark gave her a strained smile. "It was my son's."

* * *

The ger was silent that evening as Mark sat alone inside while Lyn prepared the evening meal at the larger fire pit outside. Every now and then he heard Elec's soft whinnies through the walls of the hut; he was still skittish from his time with Batta's group.

Lyn stooped inside the ger and handed him a bowl of some sort of stew. "Eat while it is still warm," she told him. She closed her eyes and murmured something – a prayer, he assumed – before fishing her fingers in the bowl and pulling out a piece of meat, chewing on it thoughtfully as she gazed at the small fire in the center of the ger.

Mark mimicked her actions, fishing a piece of meat out of the bowl with his fingers and putting it in his mouth; it was well-cooked, if not a little bland. They ate together in silence, and when the bowls had been cleaned and stacked in a corner each went to their own bedroll – Mark's had been recovered from a pile of items the bandits had hidden in the old ger, along with many of his other belongings. A broken shaft of a wooden beam they found had served Mark as a walking stick as they moved the items between the dwellings and now rested within reach beside his bedroll.

Sleep had almost claimed Mark for the night when he heard Lyn's voice in the darkness. "Mark?" she asked. "Are you still awake?"

"I am now, lass," he answered gruffly. He sat up and looked at her. "What do you want?"

"You are a traveler, yes?"

He narrowed his eyes. "I thought we established that earlier."

Gesturing to the pile of retrieved items by Mark's bedroll, Lyn tucked her legs beneath her. "You said you were a traveler, but you do not seem like any traveler I have ever known."

"So?"

"You carry no weapon with you, nothing to defend yourself with if the need arose. It is no wonder that those brigands took advantage of you."

Mark clenched his jaw. "It was an unfortunate accident– that's all."

Lyn continued to watch him. "You are hiding something," she said quietly.

"I'm not," he replied. "But what about you? You're only a child, but you're living alone out here by yourself. How old are you anyway, lass? Fifteen, sixteen?"

"This will be my eighteenth summer," she said. "I am no child."

He nodded. "Eighteen years old," he said sarcastically, "and already so knowledgeable in the ways of the world. What about your parents? Your family?"

The girl looked away and was silent for a few moments before she responded. "They are dead. My parents and my tribe – they are all gone. I am all that is left."

"...I see. You're alone too."

Lyn looked at him. "What did you say?"

Mark shook his head. "Nothing," he said. "Get some sleep, lass." He lay back down and turned away so that his back faced the girl.

She did not respond; the only thing Mark heard before sleep overcame him was the crackle of their small fire in the lone wilderness of the plains.

* * *

The following morning found the pair packing silently in the hour before dawn. Neither of them carried much – they would restock in Bulgar, and from there it would be Fate who dictated where they would turn next.

As the sun began to rise over the endless horizon Lyn turned to Mark, her expression unreadable. "Will we leave soon?" she asked.

Mark shrugged and adjusted something in one of the saddlebags. "I'll need help getting Elec ready, but we can go whenever you're ready."

Lyn nodded. "Thank you – there is something I must do before we go." She crossed to the large fire pit, still smoldering from the night before, and from it pulled a piece of burning wood before turning to the ger. She simply looked at it for a moment and raised her arm forward.

Before Mark realized what was happening the ger was alight.

"Idiot girl!" he yelled as he struggled to stand. He made his way to where Lyn stood, the bright flames reflected in her deep green eyes. "What in hell's name are you doing?"

"The dead must burn," she said. "They burn, and then they will be reborn from the ashes, just as the plains during the first rainfall after drought and lightning strike the land and drain it dry."

Mark said nothing and only stood with her as they watched the flames lick at the sky above.

* * *

"They came six months ago," Lyn told him when they stopped to make camp the first night. "The Taliver. They poisoned our water, and when everyone was ill they attacked us. They did terrible things – I was one of the only survivors."

Mark nodded. "I'm sorry," he muttered.

"My father was our chief," she continued. "After he died I tried to keep the Lorca together. But my people are old fashioned – to follow a woman is unheard of."

"But you're so young," Mark said. "Doesn't that have anything to do with why your people wouldn't follow you?"

She shrugged. "My father was seventeen when he was made chief. My mother was nineteen when I was born."

"But… You're eighteen, you said? That would make you just a few years older than my girl…"

Lyn blinked at him. "You have a family?" she asked.

"I used to."

* * *

They stopped at a small stream the next day for a short rest. Lyn led Elec to the water's edge and watered him as Mark sat on the bank and cooled his feet in the water, his breeches rolled up to his knees. She found herself looking at his misshapen leg, her eyes drawn to it against her will. Mark caught her watching and gave her the same strained smile from before as he leaned down and massaged the twisted muscle.

"I was twenty-four," he told her. "A soldier. I was young – a damned fool, strutting all over the place like a cock in a henhouse. They were going to promote me. And then I got my leg snapped clean in two – that was the end for me."

Lyn patted Elec's flank fondly; the gelding nickered softly in response. "I am sorry," she said.

"Mm." Mark leaned down further and cupped the water in his hands before letting it trickle from between his fingers. "Me too."

* * *

The eve of the third day found them camping under the great expanse of the Sacaen sky. Lyn sat at the fire they had built earlier, keeping an eye on the stew bubbling quietly in a small pot she had brought with them as she watched Elec feeding contentedly on the abundant plainsgrass.

"Poor beast," she said, "to bear the burden of two. But he is strong, and he is swift."

Mark looked at her from his bedroll where he was applying a foul-smelling salve to his leg; the day's ride had agitated it more than usual. "He's fine," he replied. "He loves the feel of the wind in his face. You can tell he enjoys it, running free across the plains without a care in the world."

"Yes." Lyn smiled. "Freedom – just a taste of it is enough to make any creature feel alive."

* * *

On the fourth day the city of Bulgar finally came into view just as the sun began to set. They would camp in the flatlands outside the city gates that night and would enter the city in the morning.

"I cannot believe that we are finally here," Lyn said as she handed Mark a piece of Lorcan flatbread. Even with their meager supplies they had rationed well; should the need arise there was enough bread and dried meat left for a day or two.

He accepted it and ripped a small piece off. "You ever been to Bulgar?" he asked before popping the crust in his mouth.

Lyn nodded. "Only once, when I was very small. He came to do trade here and I begged and pleaded for days before he agreed to let me come." She smiled at the memory. "It was amazing – it was a festival day, and the streets were decorated with colored streamers and banners. I have always wanted to come back, if only to make sure that it wasn't a dream."

Mark chuckled and leaned back on his bedroll. "A dream, eh?" he said quietly. "Dreams are nice. Nothing bad ever happens in them."

"Did you say something?" Lyn asked.

He shook his head and stuffed the rest of the bread in his mouth, chewing thoughtfully for a few moments before swallowing. "Time for bed, lass," he said. "Tomorrow's going to be a long day."

* * *

_Hello; Marius here. This is my attempt at a novelization of Fire Emblem 7: Blazing Sword. Thank you for reading the first chapter. Notes can be found on my Livejournal._

_Feedback and critique are welcome. Thank you again for reading._

_Note: I apologize for the scene breaks; I have gone through and reformatted the most glaring errors but if anyone finds any I may have missed I would be grateful if you would inform me. Thank you once again.  
_


	2. Part II: Encounters

**Thicker Than Water**

_A Fire Emblem: Blazing Sword novelization._

**Part II: **Encounters

* * *

_destiny is a fickle thing - _

_even the most resolute know not what to do in her presence  
_

**

* * *

**

They entered Bulgar when the gates opened the next morning a few hours after dawn. Even in the early hour the city bustled with life. Lyn gazed about as she led Elec through the crowded streets, eyes wide in wonder as question after question tumbled from her lips while Mark answered her questions tersely from the gelding's back.

"I thought you said you came here before," he said gruffly.

Lyn turned back to look at him. "I told you that I was only a child then," she said. "I do not remember much."

Mark frowned. "Pfeh." He looked off to the side for a moment and was quiet for a few moments until he straightened suddenly. "Wait," he told her. "Stop here."

The girl turned her head back and looked up at him quizzically but complied nonetheless, leading Elec off to the side Mark had indicated and stopping in front of a small stall. With some difficulty Mark dismounted and as the older man turned to look at the stall's wares Lyn asked him why he was in such a hurry.

He indicated the small objects on the stall's display shelf, a host of small everyday items carved painstakingly out of wood, and to the larger items set into the shelving on the sides and back wall of the stall. "Wood working," Mark told her. "Chances are there'll be a cane or staff of some sort here, and I won't have to use this pathetic stick anymore." He gestured to the broken beam they had found in the abandoned ger. "Damn thing is full of splinters."

As Mark spoke with the stall's owner Lyn turned back to Elec. The gelding flicked his tail now and then in annoyance as passersby walked too close to him but was fine for the most part. Her eyes traveled from the horse to another smaller stall selling wooden trinkets beside the larger stall Mark had gestured to earlier. One in particular caught her attention: a tiny wooden sparrow painted with painstaking detail, wings raised forever in flight as it rose on a nonexistent thermal.

"What is it, child?" asked the old woman whom Lyn assumed owned the stall. "Do you see something you fancy?" The crone gestured to the trinkets lying on the shelf before her.

Lyn pointed to the tiny sparrow. "May I see that, grandmother?"

The crone gave her a toothless grin. "Grandmother?" she cackled. "You plainsfolk – so respectful to your elders. Call me Granny Lilith then, and Granny Lilith I shall be." She took the sparrow and offered it to Lyn with one withered and claw-like hand.

Hesitantly Lyn took the figurine and placed in in the palm of her hand, fighting back a gasp as her skin became warm even through the material of her gloves from where the trinket rested. She could feel something within the sparrow pulse as if within it beat a tiny heart.

The crone seemed surprised and peered closely at the trinket in Lyn's palm, any air of madness about her immediately replaced with one of mystery and intrigue. "Ah. So it shall be again, shall it?" She laughed quietly to herself and reached out to fold Lyn's fingers over the trinket. "And to think that the winds had crossed as I rested…"

Lyn clenched her fist around the sparrow. "Granny Lilith?" she asked tentatively.

She did not respond immediately; the crone closed her eyes but did not remove her hands. "A kite, an eagle, a falcon, a crow – tumbling in a tempest of fate and followed by a motely flock. Destiny calls from across the sea, through a gate and to another side. But will you go? Will you go and meet it, little one?" Finally she withdrew her hands, opened her eyes and smiled at Lyn. "You have taken your first flight, child, but falter now and all shall end."

Lyn took a step away from the stall. "Who are you?" she asked.

"They call me one of the forgotten ones, though they themselves surely don't remember." Once again the crone smiled and Lyn found herself wondering how old the woman truly was. "But my question, child, is who are _you_?"

"I beg your pardon?" Lyn asked. She looked at the old woman curiously and the old woman stared calmly back; so intense was her gaze that Lyn barely noticed Mark calling for her until he was at her side, a new walking stick of fine dark wood in his hand as he led Elec through the crowded streets.

"Hell's teeth, lass," he said. "I was wondering where you'd run off to." He glanced at the crone. "Who's this?"

As if prompted by Mark's words the old woman began to cackle madly, all hints of sanity gone. "A crow, a crow!" she said. "A murder-less crow and a kite with no roost – and it is upon their wings the world will turn!"

Mark glared at her. "Crazy old bat." He turned to Lyn briefly before leaving the stall. "Come on, lass. We're done here."

Lyn watched him limp a few paces away before reaching into the pouch at her waist for some coin. "For the trinket, Granny Lilith," she said.

The old woman refused the money. "Why pay now, child, for what will be?" She smiled and drew the shutters of the stall closed. "Go forth and meet Fate, for more is yet to come."

* * *

Once again they spent the night outside the walls. Mark had said it was because they did not have the money for both supplies and lodgings, and yet he had still spent a fair amount of coin on flasks of ale and packets of pipeweed. She had bit her tongue during the purchases; the words of the old woman still weighed heavily on her mind.

She had spoken of fate and destiny – both were important things to the people of Sacae. They were sacred beliefs, and Lilith had spoken of Lyn's. Was this truly her path? For so long her mind had been clouded by thoughts of revenge – was she truly ready to move on?

Unconsciously Lyn raised her hand to the sparrow trinket where it hung about her neck as she prepared herself for sleep. The wood as always was warm against her fingers, and as sleep overcame her Lyn fancied that she heard her mother's lullaby on the wind.

* * *

Bulgar was not the largest city in Elibe, but it certainly was among the busiest. Its position as a cultural crossroads was obvious – Lycian craftsmen hawked their goods as dark-eyed Sacaean women squatted on their pallets, gazing silently at potential buyers who inspected their herbal remedies; a group of Ilian mercenaries chatted idly amongst themselves as they examined the wares of the Bernese blacksmiths

It was at one of these weaponry stalls that Kent found himself, examining a large iron broadsword. The sword's creator watched closely, commenting now and then as if he feared losing his customer.

"A good sword" he said in a thick Bernese accent. "It is very strong, very tough."

But also very heavy, Kent thought as he slashed with the blade experimentally; it would be a liability from horseback if he could not raise his weapon fast enough to defend himself. Kent shook his head and returned the blade. "Let me see that lance instead."

"Mind if I join you, boy?" a gruff voice asked.

Kent turned to the speaker, an older man with a scruffy beard and dark brown hair that had begun to gray at the temples leading a grey gelding behind him. "Of course, sir," Kent replied.

The man chuckled. "_Sir_ – when was the last time someone called me that?" He shuffled closer to examine the lane, and Kent dimly noticed the dull sound of a wooden stick tapping against the packed dirt beneath their feet. _A cane?_ "Thank you, lad."

The blacksmith spoke up as he handed the lance over. "Good balance," he said, "and reach – a good choice for both horseback and on foot."

"Let me see that." The older man took the lance, holding it across his chest expertly as he tested the balance. "Hm. Very nice." He looked at the blacksmith. "How much for two of these?"

As the two men haggled over the price of the lances Kent cast a glance down the lane – there seemed to be a commotion of some sort: a young woman in traditional Sacaean garb stalked down the dirt path toward them, stopping only to grab the older man's arm and tug him after her. "Come," she said, "we are going."

The man did not budge. "What happened, lass?" he asked, voice laced with irritation at her gesture.

She opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off by a sandy-haired man who trailed behind her.

"Ah, sweet angel!" he proclaimed dramatically. "Please wait!"

"Hm." The older man shifted his weight and looked at the newcomer pointedly as the girl moved to stand behind him. "And who the hell are you?"

Kent fought the urge to groan. "Sain."

At the sound of his name the man turned and seemed to wilt visibly upon recognizing Kent. "A-ah," he said, "my boon companion!"

"Quiet."

"You know this idiot, lad?" the older man asked. Behind him the girl glared at them fiercely.

Kent nodded. "I apologize for my partner's actions," he said. "He means no harm, I assure you." He turned to Sain. "And _you_ need to learn to hold your tongue."

"But Kent! To remain silence in the presence of such beauty is… Outrageous! Heinous! Unthinkable! Unimaginable –"

"Shut your mouth, you fool," the older man muttered. He turned to the smith and handed the man some gold. "We get it."

Kent looked at him. "I am very sorry sir. Sain did not mean any offense to you or your daughter."

The girl flushed. "He is not my father," she said.

"Ah." Kent bagan to feel the heat in his face beginning to rise. "My apologies, miss."

She smiled tentatively at him. "It is fine," she said. "You seem honorable, at least."

"Thank you, miss." He bowed slightly to her. Their eyes met briefly as he straightened and he felt a jolt of recognition run through him. "Excuse me," he asked, "but have we met before?"

Instantly her expression became guarded. "What?"

"Do my ears deceive me?" Beside him Sain immediately snapped to attention, almost colliding with a large man with an equally large axe tucked into his belt. He apologized to the man quickly before turning back to Kent. "You're interested in a woman? No fair, Kent! I saw her first!"

The older man began to laugh, mirth barely kept in check, and Kent felt his face flush as the girl glared at them. She grabbed the gelding's reins from the older man and set off through the crowded street. Kent watched as the older man, still laughing, turned to follow her until they were swallowed by the crowd.

"Sain, you fool!" Kent said angrily. "Now look what you've done."

Sain blinked. "You mean…?"

Kent fought the urge to throw something at his partner; instead he walked over to where their horses were tethered and quickly began to ready his mare. "I am _not_ you," he said. "Now hurry – that girl. Something about her…"

"Ah?" Sain looked back in the direction the girl and her companion had disappeared in. "So she's who we've been searching for?" He turned back to his partner. "Kent?"

But the younger man was already gone, following the strange girl and the old man through the crowd. Cursing under his breath at his lack of attentiveness, Sain untethered his horse and set off in pursuit.

* * *

"Poor lad," Mark said as they reached the remains of their fire pit from the last few nights. He looked down at her from his perch on Elec's back. "He meant well – there was no reason for you to storm off like that."

Lyn glared up at him. "It was offensive," she said. "He spoke to me as if I were a prize to be won. And his friend was no better."

Mark shrugged and scratched Elec's neck. "I liked the quiet one. He knew what he was talking about when I met him in the armory." He turned to look back to look at Bulgar's silhouette in the evening air. "Speak of the devil…"

"What?" Lyn turned to see what Mark was watching. "Is it those knights?"

He shook his head and grabbed one of the lances from its sling across his back. "I don't think so, lass. Better be prepared."

Lyn allowed her hand to creep close to her belt as the strangers approached; she recognized their leader as the man the green knight – Sain, she believed his name was – had bumped into in the streets. The group stopped an arrow's flight away from their campsite and their leader approached.

"You, girl," he said. "Are you the one they call 'Lyndis'?"

She allowed herself to rest her hand upon the hilt of her sword even as the remainder of her body tensed at the strange man's words. "And if I am?"

The brigand sighed. "That's a shame, sweetie. The things I'll do for money – hey!" He looked quickly at a lance that had embedded itself in the ground at the brigand's feet and then to the weapon's source.

The knights they had met in Bulgar were riding out on the flatlands toward them, the hooves of their steeds pounding the dust as they strove to reach the brigands in time.

Lyn took the opportunity of the knights' arrival to dash forward and slash one of the bandits across the belly before moving on to engage another. The man wailed pitifully in pain and fell to the ground as he attempted to keep his entrails from spilling out of the wound – a quick stab from Mark's lance ended his suffering.

The knights meanwhile had engaged the remaining few bandits in battle; minutes later, the skirmish was won and the blood of the brigands stained the flatlands.

As the men watched silently from their respective mounts Lyn walked to where the brigand leader – Zugu, he called himself – lay dying.

"How?" she asked. She clenched her teeth and grabbed the man by his shirt front. "How did you know?"

Zugu did not look at her; the light was already fading from his eyes. "Damned knights," he murmured. "There was only supposed to be a girl." The last of his breath faded away and the bandit was dead.

Mark urged Elec through the carnage to where Lyn knelt in the grass. "Lass?" he asked. "Come on, tell me what's wrong." He barely noticed when Kent and Sain followed a few paces behind him.

Lyn looked up at him, her cheeks smeared with tears and blood. "My name," she said quietly, "is Lyndis."

"I know," Kent said. Sain watched them solemnly. "I know."

* * *

The knights had insisted on staying in an inn for the night. Mark could hardly fault them – after the day's events it was the safest option any of them could think of for the night and the fact that Kent and Sain insisted on paying for the stay was a proposition he could not ignore. The four sat at a small round table near the hearth. The men had each ordered a drink; Lyn traced her finger pensively around the dirty rim of her glass of water as she listened to the exchange around her.

"I'm afraid we did not have the chance to introduce ourselves properly earlier," Kent said before taking an idle sip of his beer. "My name is Kent and this is my partner Sain. We are knights of Lycia in service to Lord Hausen, the marquess of the canton of Caelin."

Sain opened his mouth to add something – a stern glance from Kent promptly closed it and the sandy-haired man instead lifted his own drink to his lips for a liberal mouthful.

Mark nodded. "I've been there," he said. He lifted his own bottle of strong whiskey. "I was born and raised in Santaruz, but my mother's family is from Caelin. Wasn't there some scandal in the ruling house a while back?"

Kent nodded. "About twenty years ago Lord Hausen's only daughter, Lady Madelyn, eloped with a Sacaean chieftain. The marquess was heartbroken and sent many envoys to retrieve her, but all of them failed. Eventually Lord Hausen declared he had no daughter and the incident was never mentioned again." He paused to take another sip of his drink and Sain continued the story.

"No one spoke of Lady Madelyn again for fear of incurring the Lord Hausen's anger – it was still a sore subject for him, you see – until less than a year ago. We received a letter and from none other than the estranged Lady Madelyn!" Sain beamed. "It said that she, her husband, and their grown daughter were living happily on the plains with the rest of her husband's people; I remember the smile on the marquess' face when he announced that he was a grandfather."

"Lady Madelyn wrote that her daughter's name was Lyndis," Kent explained, "named for her mother, the marquess' late wife who had passed away at a young age."

Sain grinned. "And so Kent and I were sent out to find Lady Madelyn and her family to invite them back to Caelin for the marquess' forgiveness and blessings."

Kent looked at Lyn. "It was only when we reached Bulgar that we learned that Lady Madelyn and most of her husband's tribe had passed away in a bandit raid. But we also discovered that there were survivors, among them Madelyn's daughter Lyndis."

She said nothing for a few minutes and instead looked into the flames dancing in the hearth, her fingers playing idly with the tiny wooden sparrow she wore on a thin piece of braided hemp around her neck. "I always knew there was something different about my mother," she said slowly. "My father loved her very much – it was the reason he made her his bride – but there was something about her that was different from the rest of us. One of the wisewomen told me once when I was very young that I had inherited some of my mother's 'otherness' but I did not understand it then." Lyn smiled bitterly. "I think I do now." She turned to Kent. "How did you know who I was?"

"You look like your mother," he said. "I did not know Lady Madelyn personally but I have seen her portraits in the castle."

Lyn nodded. "Only my father and mother called me Lyndis – only when it was the three of us. To the rest of my tribe I was Lyn. So when that man asked me if my name was Lyndis, I did not know how to react. I do not know how he would have known my name in the first place."

"I know how," Sain said solemnly. "Lundgren."

Lyn looked at him curiously. "Who?"

"The marquess' younger brother," Kent told her. "Your great-uncle."

"But what does that have to do with me? I do not understand."

Kent took another sip of his beer. "With Lady Madelyn gone, the order of succession fell to Lord Lundgren. But now that the marquess is aware of your existence, you are the new heir to Caelin."

"…I am afraid I still do not understand," Lyn said. She fidgeted with the trinket again.

Mark sighed. "Think about it, lass," he said. "Politics – you're in Lundgren's way."

Lyn seemed stricken. "But I do not want any titles!"

Sain shrugged. "I'm afraid your grand-uncle doesn't think so," he said. "The brigands we fought today were surely his henchmen."

Kent glanced at Lyn. "I am afraid it is unsafe for you to continue traveling this way if Lundgren is that intent on his attempts on your life," he said. "Why not travel with us to Caelin?"

Mark shrugged and lifted the bottle to his lips. "It doesn't matter to me – let the girl decide."

"Are you sure?" Lyn looked at Mark. "What do you think?"

"I already said I don't care," Mark replied gruffly. "It's your life – take charge of it. Stop moping about the past."

Lyn was silent for a moment as she mulled the proposition over. "Very well," she said. She turned to Kent. "I will join you."

"Then it's settled!" Sain grinned at his companions and finished off the last of his beer. "Fair Lady Lyndis, fear not! I, your loyal servant, shall guard you at all times!"

Kent nodded and finished his own mug. "Then we shall leave for Caelin in the morning."

* * *

Kent found Mark outside after Sain and Lyn – Lady Lyndis now, he reminded himself – the smoke from his pipe trailing lazily in the cool night air. "Excuse me," he said. "May I ask you a question?"

Mark glanced at him. "No need to be so formal with me, lad," he said. "Go ahead."

"What is your connection to Lady Lyndis?"

"My connection to the girl?" Mark grinned at the younger man. "Do you think she's my illicit lover or something? Sorry to disappoint you lad, but she's a little young and inexperienced for my tastes."

Kent didn't smile. "You know what I mean."

Mark took the pipe from his mouth and frowned as he tapped the ashes out. "She found me on the plains about ten days ago. She saved my life and in a way I guess I saved hers." He shrugged. "She would've died out there if she'd been alone much longer. So I brought her with me to Bulgar – I figured someone here would know her." He smirked. "I guess I was right."

"Were you going to leave her after she'd been taken off your hands?" Kent asked.

"That was the plan." Mark looked at Kent sternly. "But don't think it's because I'm a cold hearted old bastard; I've become fond of the girl. She reminds me of someone I knew. But I have no way of taking care of her – I barely have enough to take care of myself. How could I take her with me?"

"Will you come with us then?"

Mark looked at Kent curiously. "What do you mean?"

"You clearly have experience in battle. I saw you against those brigands on the flatlands. But your fighting style isn't the greatest – you weren't formally taught to fight from horseback, were you? Except against weaker opponents you're not an asset on the battlefield."

Mark chuckled. "You're an observant soldier, lad," he said. "You'd make a fine commander some day." His expression grew serious again. "Aye, I was a solider. A damned good one, too. But things happened and now I'm an ornery old man who doesn't even know where his next drink or job is going to come from."

"You work?" Kent asked in disbelief. "I'm sorry, I did not mean to sound so…."

"It's fine boy, I understand." Mark leaned against the wall of the inn. "I'm a tactician now – if you could even call the things I come up with actual battle tactics."

Kent felt his eyes being drawn toward Mark's misshapen leg and forced himself to look away. "But you know the ways of battle. You're clearly more experienced than any of us presently. We could use your aid."

"And?"

"You would be paid handsomely by the marquess upon our arrival to Caelin."

Mark contemplated the offer as he limped back toward the front door of the inn. "I'll come," he said. "I'm not getting any younger – maybe this is just what I need to get on with my life." He looked back at Kent. "Best get to bed boy," Mark said. He grinned at the younger man. "You said yourself we'd be leaving first thing in the morning."

As he followed the older man back into the inn a crow cawed from somewhere under the eaves of the establishment and Kent wondered what this journey would bring for them all.

* * *

_Welcome to the second installment of "Thicker Than Water". Feedback and criticism are welcome as always. Notes will be posted to my Livejournal shortly._

_Thank you again for reading.  
_


	3. Part III: Secrets

**Thicker Than Water**

_A Fire Emblem: Blazing Sword novelization._

**Part III: **Secrets

* * *

_perhaps it is true i know nothing of our fates –_

_but i know to follow it when i hear mine call_

* * *

"You know," Sain said as they loaded their saddlebags onto their mounts the next morning, "she's really not what I expected."

"Do you mean Lady Lyndis?" Kent asked, tightening a strap and tugging it lightly to make sure the pack was secure.

His companion nodded. "I've never met a girl like her before," Sain replied. "She's certainly something special."

Kent began to go through the packs again – double and triple-checking their supplies before departing Bulgar would not hurt anyone. "Be careful not to fall in love with her, you fool," he told Sain. "Her position as Caelin's heir is already unstable because of Lundgren – it won't do to have a lovestruck knight chasing after her as well."

Sain sighed dramatically. "Alas, my boon companion! You wound me. But fear not – only from afar shall I praise and admire our fair lady and none shall be the wiser!"

"And what the hell are you babbling about now, boy?"

Kent turned and nodded at the new arrival. "Good morning, Sir Mark," he said politely.

Mark frowned. "Thought I told you to quit it with the 'sir' stuff."

Sain grinned at the older man. "A most marvelous morning to you, Master Mark. A fine day for a journey, is it not? Why – "

Kent suppressed the urge to groan.

Mark thumped his walking stick on the ground impatiently. "And I thought I told you to shut up," he said gruffly. "Otherwise, I'll _make_ you shut up." He turned back to Kent. "We'll be leaving soon. You ready?"

Kent nodded dutifully, fists clenched tightly at his sides. "We will leave when you are ready."

Mark grunted noncommittally. "Good. At least one of you is competent." He looked at Sain pointedly before turning and limping back to where Lady Lyndis and his own pale grey steed waited.

"What an ornery old man," Sain said once Mark was out of earshot. "I wonder what past client of his shoved that cane of his so far up his – "

"Sain," said Kent sternly. "Now is not the time to be petty."

The older knight made a face at the tactician's back before turning back to look at his mare and running a hand along her flank affectionately. He sighed. "As always, Kent, you're the voice of reason. Though I must say that I will be glad to be rid of Mark once we reach Caelin." Sain looked at Kent curiously. "Why did you ask him to join us?"

Kent shrugged. "Because he knows what he's doing. You saw him with the brigands yesterday too – he doesn't have much technique but Mark isn't stupid. There's a lot he hasn't told us but it's obvious he has experience. And for what it's worth Lady Lyndis seems to trust him. Besides – " He glanced back at the old man and the girl quickly before tilting his head toward Sain. " – if Lundgren is that intent on keeping Caelin for himself we'll need all the help we can get, if only…" He trailed off and looked at Sain expectantly.

Sain frowned. "You really don't think Lady Cordelia's suspicions are accurate, do you?"

"I don't know," Kent replied. "She is a smart woman. If she really thinks that there's something wrong I wouldn't question her." He clenched his jaw. "I am willing to do whatever it takes to protect Caelin – or die trying."

For a few moments Sain said nothing. He continued to run his hand along the horse's warm brown flank. "That's the oath we swore when we were knighted, wasn't it? 'Duty to one's lord and land before all else'?" He smiled at his companion. "I'm with you, my friend. If it really is as the lady suspects, then I won't allow Caelin to fall into the hands of someone so unfit to rule."

"Thank you," Kent said simply. "Truly."

"Of course." Sain turned back to look at their newest companions; Mark had seated himself on a bench near the inn's small stable, watching Lady Lyndis as she sorted through and packed their belongings, giving her gruff instructions now and then. "Will you tell them?"

Kent shook his head. "No, not yet. I don't think Lady Lyndis could handle such news just yet – you saw how she reacted to the truth of her heritage. She needs more time to adjust."

"What about Mark?"

The younger knight shrugged again. "Just because Lady Lyndis trusts him doesn't mean that I do. Not yet."

Sain nodded and grasped his mare's reins. "I can't wait to get back to Caelin," he repeated.

"My neither," said Kent before stepping closer to his own horse and hoisting himself into the saddle. "Let's go."

Sain sighed. "Alright," he said, swinging himself into the saddle his own horse. Kent waited for him, and once Sain was comfortably situated astride his mare the pair made their way over to the older man and the girl.

Lady Lyndis was busy securing their bags to the gelding's saddle – a job Mark surely could have helped with instead of letting her do all the work, Kent thought, but he said nothing on that. Instead he asked, "Are you ready to depart?"

Mark shrugged. "I am. But the lass has something to ask you."

Lady Lyndis fixed Mark with an irritated look before turning to Kent. "It is nothing – only a small request."

"Yes, milady?"

She shifted uncomfortably at the title. "I… It is nothing. Never mind."

"I beg your pardon, Lady Lyndis," said Sain," but I hardly think it is 'nothing'."

"Just spit it out, lass," Mark said. "If you have something to say, then just say it. Don't give a damn about what other people think of you."

_Clearly,_ Kent added silently, _you don't._

Lady Lyndis frowned at Mark but replied nonetheless. "That is… there is a small shrine just outside Bulgar." She straightened her shoulders and looked at Mark pointedly. "I want to go there."

Mark frowned. "What are you telling me for?" he demanded. For a moment it looked as if Lady Lyndis was going to say something back, but she quickly bit back her retort.

Kent ignored the older man. "Of course, milady," he said. "Do you know where the shrine is?"

She nodded. "Yes – it is just east of the city," she said, "not even half a morning's journey from here on horseback after you leave the city gates."

"Have you been there before?" Kent asked.

Lady Lyndis shook her head. "Only once when I was very small – my father always went there whenever he came to Bulgar to trade however, so I have heard a lot about it."

"Very well. If that is what you wish, then we shall go." Kent glanced down at Mark. "Are you ready?"

With a low groan, Mark got off the bench and shuffled toward his horse. "As ready as I'll ever be, boy," he replied before clucking his tongue at the grey gelding. The horse knelt obediently and Mark hoisted himself onto the saddle. When he was comfortable, Lady Lyndis settled in the saddle behind him, and Mark clucked his tongue again. The gelding stood.

"Shall we?" Sain asked.

Lady Lyndis nodded. "Yes."

* * *

The group rode in silence for most of the morning. Kent, reticent by nature as always, did not mind though he was perplexed by Lady Lyndis' silence and the rigidity with which she sat behind Mark. They stopped only once when the tactician began to complain of pain in his ruined leg and Kent took the opportunity to ask her if there was anything on her mind.

She seemed taken aback by his question and a few long moments passed before she responded. "I do not know," she told him. "It is all so sudden – knowing that I still have a family, the truth of my mother's past… There are so many things coming together all at once." She raised a hand to the hollow of her throat and closed her fingers around the small charm she wore about her neck – a bird of some sort, Kent thought. "That is all."

Kent nodded. "I see," he told her. "But if there is anything at all that you may need please do not hesitate to inform Sain or I. We are your vassals; our duty is first and foremost to you and Caelin."

Lady Lyndis smiled at him. "Thank you, Kent," she told him. "May I ask you something?"

"Of course, milady."

"What sort of place is Caelin? Or Lycia? I have only ever been in Sacae and even then only on the paths my people followed with the seasons."

He blinked. "Your mother never spoke of Caelin?"

"No." Lady Lyndis shook her head. "If she ever spoke of it then I do not remember."

Kent furrowed his brows in thought. "Caelin is… it is one of the smaller cantons of Lycia but its people are strong and proud. The ruling line has only ever brought peace and prosperity to the land and has always maintained good relations with other cantons."

"The ruling line…" Lady Lyndis bit her lower lip. "What sort of person is my grandfather, Kent?"

"Lord Hausen is a good man. We have never been in want of anything under his guidance. He cares for his people as if they are his own children and his duty and love for Caelin is admirable."

Lady Lyndis smiled. "He sounds wonderful." She chewed on the inside of her cheek thoughtfully. "And what of Lord Lundgren?"

Kent frowned. "I am afraid it is not my place to say, milady. I have only ever heard rumors."

Her face fell visibly. "Then tell me, what have you heard?"

It took Kent a few moments to find the right words. "The older knights say that Lord Lundgren was once a good man just like the current marquess. He was married young and though he loved his wife dearly they weren't blessed with children." He looked at Lady Lyndis. "They said that your mother was the apple of his eye and her departure came as a shock to him. It's been almost twenty years but they say Lord Lundgren hasn't been the same since."

She looked at the ground. "I see." For a moment she seemed lost in thought. Then she looked at him. "You know I do not want any titles – I only want to see the last of my family and land where my mother was born."

"I'm afraid Lord Lundgren doesn't see it that way," said Kent.

Lady Lyndis nodded. "I know." She bit her lip again. "You will stay with me all the way to Caelin, won't you?"

Kent nodded. "Of course, milady," he said. "Sain as well. We will always stay by your side."

"Thank you," Lady Lyndis said simply and Kent could see that she meant it.

* * *

Lady Lyndis had said that the shrine stood just beyond the edge of a small village not far from Buglar, and by midmorning Sain could see the outlines of the small homes and buildings of the village swaying slightly the growing heat.

"Ah, blessed place!" he said, drawing his forearm across his face to wipe away some of the sweat beading his skin. "A holy place, for a pilgrim to rest before carrying on their way."

Mark shot him an annoyed look and Lady Lyndis merely shook her head. "It's a small village, Sain, and an even smaller shrine. No one comes here anymore – the only thing that rests here is a sword said to be blessed by the spirits themselves. Only the most devout still come here."

"That may be the case, my lady," Kent replied, "but at least people still come here to pray and the ancient customs are still observed. I myself am keen to see this shrine; I've only ever seen the simple churches of Elimine and only then those built in Lycia. The greatest of Elimine's cathedrals are in Etruria. I hope to one day see them."

Sain grinned at the younger man and then turned to look at Lady Lyndis. "He won't admit it but my boon companion is a lover of fine architecture just as I am fond of poetic words and the great songs and tales of old."

Lady Lyndis smiled as Kent's ears turned a delicate shade of pink. "Are all of Lycia's knights this well-versed in the arts?"

"You flatter us, my lady," Sain said. His smile grew wider. "But alas, how I wish it were so! You would be hard-pressed to find a decent conversationalist among the otherwise uneducated boors that make up the ranks of Lycian soldiers – fine men they are, especially those of our beloved canton, but as dumb as a mule when it comes to things of a more refined nature." He nodded in the tactician's direction. "I'm sure our dear Master Mark understands what I mean."

"I do," Mark answered. He twisted in the saddle and glared at Sain. "Keep that up and one day you'll find my cane somewhere you don't want." He narrowed his eyes before facing forward again and Lyn gave Sain an apologetic smile before turning around as well.

Sain stuck his tongue out at the tacticians back and reined in his mare so that he rode beside Kent. "Is it just me," he muttered under his breath, "or does Master Mark really not like me."

Kent simply looked at him. "I wouldn't call it not liking you," he said wryly. "I'm certain he hates you."

"You wound me," Sain replied sarcastically. "But what have I done to deserve this sort of vitriol?"

The younger knight shrugged. "I don't think it's just you – Mark just seems to hate everyone and everything."

"You're right." Sain let go of the reins and tapped his chin thoughtfully with his free hand. "I wonder what made him that way – if he had a family once I can't imagine he was always like this."

Kent shrugged again. "He probably won't tell us. Ornery old men like him are happiest when they complain – if we just leave him alone he's sure to stop. Eventually."

Sain shook his head and gripped the reins again with both hands. "I can't wait until we reach Caelin," he repeated. "I just can't wait."

* * *

They reached the village soon after and upon arriving learned that despite its small size it boasted a relatively decent inn. It was a charming little building quaintly called _The Spirits' Crossing_ and it was here Mark announced they would eat and rest before leaving for the shrine.

The four of them sat crowded around a small table in the inn and talking idly amongst themselves as they ate the meal they had ordered – a type of stew made from the flesh of one of the small long-legged plainsdeer that roamed the area, seasoned with an assortment of spices and herbs Sain had never before tasted, eaten with large, warm pieces of flatbread and downed with a fragrant and slightly bitter drink made from the roots of a plant whose name he could not pronounce.

It was as Lady Lyndis was patiently coaching Sain in the pronunciation of the plant's name that the door to the inn burst open and a woman rushed in in a panic. The room – already sparse with a lack of patrons – quickly fell silent and the innkeep approached her in concern, a small wooden cup of the bitter root drink clenched in one hand.

"What happened?" he asked, rubbing her back gently with one hand and handing her the cup with the other.

The woman swallowed thickly. "The shrine!" she managed to choke out before raising the cup to her lips and downing its contents. She coughed. "Ruffians, at the shrine – the priest is an old man, he can't fight all of them on his own…"

Lady Lyndis stood up suddenly, her arm colliding with Sain's shoulder painfully as she rose; she did not seem to feel the pain though Sain rubbed the spot ruefully. "Ruffians at the shrine? What of the Mani Katti? Is it safe?"

"I… I don't know." The woman shook her head. "Please, will you go help the priest? He is an old man and no one else in the village can use a weapon as effectively as those ruffians can." She handed the cup to the innkeep. "You look like a virtuous group," the woman said. "Please, will you go?"

Sain stood. "To disturb a place of worship and attack a defenseless old man? My good lady, a request is not necessary – this is simply a matter of doing the right thing."

Kent nodded and rose as well. "Sain is right." He looked down at the tactician. "Sir Mark?"

"No," the old man said tersely. "I'm not going."

Lady Lyndis clenched her jaw. "I – "

Mark glared at her. "I said I'm not going – I only said I would take you to the shrine. I said nothing about saving a priest or an old magic sword."

Again Lady Lyndis opened her mouth to speak even as Sain forced down his own harsh response to the old man, but the woman from before cut her off.

"Please, my lady," she said again. "Go to the priest – keep both him and the Mani Katti safe!"

Lady Lyndis looked down at Mark; he simply stared up at her and finally she shook her head. "Let's go – may I ride with one of you?" she asked as she stepped away from the table and past the woman and the innkeep, out the inn's door and toward the small stable where their horses were kept.

Both knights followed her. "But of course," Sain replied.

"Your word is our command," Kent added as he opened the door to the stall that housed his gelding, quickly saddling him and leading him out of the stable.

Minutes later they set off for the shrine and as the hooves of their steeds pounded the packed earth Sain could feel the blood pounding in his ears in anticipation and the heavy beating of his heart, he never noticed the lone figure watching them from the back door of the inn.

The shrine stood less than a mile from the very outskirts of the village. It was a small humble thing of mortar and old cracked stone and presently surrounded by a group of unsavory-looking men.

"If that's all of these unruly fellows," Sain said, "then it shouldn't be too hard to get rid of them and save the priest."

Kent nodded and reined in his horse alongside Sain. "What worries me is the space between this wall and the shrine itself – there's barely room for one horseman here, let alone two."

Sain cast a sidelong glance at Lady Lyndis, who was riding with Kent. Her arms were wrapped around his waist, hands balled into tight fists. Her expression was unreadable.

"What do you think we should do, milady?" Sain ventured. She did not respond. "Lady Lyndis?" He looked at the younger knight in confusion and Kent twisted as best as he could in his saddle to look at their liege.

"Milady," Kent asked, "are you well?"

Lady Lyndis shook her head and straightened. "Yes. I am fine." She removed her arms from Kent's waist and dismounted gracefully.

Sain bit his lower lip. "If this is about Mark, milady, I think…"

Again Lady Lyndis shook her head. "This is not the time to worry about something like that," she told them.

"Perhaps milady," Kent replied, "but it would not bode well to dwell too long on it either."

"I am well," Lady Lyndis assured them. She brushed her fingers across the hilt of the sword strapped to her waist. "There are more pressing matters at hand – we must save the priest!"

Sain nodded. "Of course." He looked between his comrade and his lady. "What would you suggest we do, milady?"

It was Kent who spoke first. "The space between these two walls is too narrow – we'll have to draw them through if we want to properly engage them."

Lady Lyndis shook her head. "That will take too long," she said. "You two stay here and draw them out. I will go on ahead and try to find their leader. If we finish him off the rest of the group should disperse."

"No, milady," Kent replied. "I'm afraid I must disagree with this plan. You cannot take such a risk."

"My boon companion is right I'm afraid," Sain added. "As your vassals we cannot possibly allow you to risk your life in such a way. Perhaps if we dismounted and were to join you on foot…?"

But Lady Lyndis was resolute in her decision. "Do you see any other way?" she asked. "You admitted it yourself Kent – you and Sain can't possibly fit through this gap together. I can move faster than both of you on foot and even if you were to fight on foot we would still be at a disadvantage with so many bodies crowding the gap. Let me go on ahead."

Kent opened his mouth to reply but it was Sain who responded instead. "I understand milady," he said. He glanced at Kent apologetically before looking back at his lady. "Please take care."

She nodded. "Thank you Sain." She too looked at Kent apologetically. "I am sorry Kent." She took a few steps back before turning completely and walking toward the edge of the wall. "May the spirit of the Mani Katti watch over you," she said before disappearing behind the wall.

Sain watched her go in admiration. "She really is something isn't she? Hard to believe she's so young sometimes."

"Sain…" Kent began but the older knight simply chuckled in response.

"I know, I know: don't fall in love with her." A yell of rage and the sound of someone running toward them caught Sain's attention and he looked up to find a pair of the ruffians rushing toward them.

Kent took his sword from the scabbard attached to his saddle. "We've got company Sain."

Brushing his sandy hair from his forehead Sain mimicked his companion's actions, taking his lance from its holster and gripping it confidently. "Such sloppy form," he muttered as he readied himself.

"No better than yours," Kent remarked dryly as he spurred his gelding into a fast trot and then a gallop.

Sain smirked. "Thought you always said the battlefield wasn't the place for joking around, my boon companion," he replied as his mare pressed on ahead.

Kent leaned down and swung his sword in a clean arc. The sound of a collarbone cracking and splitting echoed wetly against the stone walls. The blade continued to cut through the tough muscle and sinew before erupting from between the ruffian's shoulder blades in a shower of bone fragments and gore. With a howl of pain the man went down, clutching at his now useless shoulder hopelessly; he did not see Sain approaching with his lance poised and ready until it was too late.

"I was serious," the younger knight said before engaging the second man; the ruffian was faster than his companion had been and brought the blade of his axe up just before Kent's sword struck. The sound of metal-on-metal reverberated in the small space and Kent pushed down against the man in an attempt to gain leverage over him.

Sain nodded. "I should've known," he said before catching sight of another large figure approaching them. His mare reared up on her hind legs, hooves pawing at the air, and the approaching ruffian went down silently as one steel-shod hoof connected with his temple. He did not rise again.

Upon seeing their companions motionless on the ground – one bloodied and with a severed arm and a jagged hole through his chest and the other dead of a cracked skull – the remaining ruffians seemed to realize that both the knights and their mounts posed a threat to them and they backed away before quickly regrouping in a rough semicircle and pushing them against the wall of the shrine. Sain did not realize it until he and Kent were effectively cornered against the wall, their mounts shying away from the weapons of the ruffians as they continued to jab at them.

Kent swore under his breath. "This isn't good, Sain," he said before hissing in pain as the blade of a rusty steel broadsword slashed a shallow wound in his calf.

"You're telling me," Sain replied as he backed his mare closer against the wall in an attempt to distance himself from the ruffians. He thrust his lance out and smiled grimly as it went cleanly through the stomach of the man who had just injured Kent.

It was apparent he had misjudged the distance however when the hoof of his mare suddenly connected with the wall behind them. Sain was gripped his mare tightly with his legs, convinced that he the force of such a collision would force him to fall from the saddle, and so he was surprised to feel the wall give in slightly under the pressure – even more so when an avalanche of small rocks rained down on them.

He cast a quick glance back at the wall – despite its relatively strong appearance it was clear that the mortar was beginning to crumble and Sain grinned despite himself.

"Kent," Sain said, "I have an idea."

* * *

The innkeep looked on, the disbelief evident in his expression, as he watched the older man struggle to clamber up onto the back of a pale gray gelding.

"Are you sure you'll be alright, sir?" he asked.

"Pfeh." The man scowled down at him. "If I wasn't fine I wouldn't go. If I didn't go I wouldn't get paid. If I don't get paid I'm not happy. And I'm sick of not being happy." He snapped the gelding's reins quickly and muttered something under his breath about increasing his rates in the future. The gelding began at a trot and then took off at a gallop when the man snapped the reins again.

The innkeep watched the man until he reached the edge of the village and then looked down at the small copper pieces in his hand.

"Strange man," the innkeep muttered before turning around and walking back into the establishment. "May the spirits watch over him as well."

* * *

"We're almost through," Kent said as he jabbed at the wall with his lance one more time.

Sain grinned at him quickly and turned back to the ruffians before him. Only two were left and they watched the knights carefully as they glanced between them and the bodies of their fallen companions. One of them made a valiant effort to stop Kent – he charged at the younger knight but a quick jab to the side incapacitated him.

The last remaining ruffian made an effort to attack them before stopping suddenly, face twisted in pain. He fell forward onto his face and Sain frowned when he saw who had dispatched the man.

"Master Mark," Sain said. "We didn't expect to see you here – I thought you didn't come here to save a shrine?"

Mark glared at him. "Save it for later, lad." He looked at the bodies around them before settling his gaze on the knights. He frowned when he caught sight of their injuries. "And this is why you pups need a tactician," he said. "At least you figured out the condition of the wall on your own."

It was at that moment that, with one final shove, Kent managed to send the wall crumbling down to nothing more than a pile of mortar and rubble. "It was Sain who discovered it, actually."

"No thanks to you," Sain added.

"I see." Mark nodded and scratched his chin. "Guess you're not totally useless after all."

Sain opened his mouth in response but Kent quickly cut him off. "This is no time for bickering," he said. "Lady Lyndis is already inside the shrine." He dismounted quickly and Sain did the same. "Let's go," he said, looking at Mark curiously when the old tactician did not dismount. "You're not coming?"

Mark shook his head. "You go ahead," he said as he indicated his bad leg with a bob of his head. "If there's any fighting going on I'll be useless in there. You know that."

"Then why come at all?" Sain asked.

The tactician looked as if he was going to say something but instead sighed and raised his hand, rubbing his fingers together in the universal sign for money. "Get it?" he asked. "Now go. She needs you."

Kent nodded and disappeared through the hole in the wall. Sain glanced over his shoulder at Mark ruefully before following.

Mark watched them go until they disappeared into the shrine before sighing and patting his mount's neck affectionately. "Dammit, Elec," he said, "I think I'm going soft."

* * *

They found Lady Lyndis in the main room of the shrine helping an old man to his feet. Her sword lay on the hard stone floor of the shrine beside the body of a man Sain assumed to be the leader of the ruffians. He started when he felt a hand on his shoulder and turned to see Kent.

"The dead have no place in a place of worship," he said, "least of all those who wrongfully take what isn't theirs."

Sain nodded, and together they brought the body of the man outside. Mark met them at the entrance to the shrine, the reins of their own mounts in his hand.

"Well?" he asked gruffly.

"The sword is safe, Lady Lyndis is unscathed, and the priest is alive," Sain replied.

Mark nodded appraisingly. "Good," he said. "Here, take these," handing the reins to the Kent.

The knight took them. "What are you doing?" he asked.

"Coming inside, of course," Mark replied as he swung his good leg over the horses back and awkwardly dismounted. "What does it look like I'm doing?" He held on to the gelding for support as he took his cane from a holster tied to the saddle. "Let's go."

Lyn did not say anything when Mark entered the shrine with the two knights. Instead she turned back to the priest.

"These are my comrades Kent and Sain," she said. "They helped to take get rid of the ruffians who dared to attack such a sacred place."

The priest nodded. "My thanks," he said. "Glass and his band of rogues have been roaming the area for months now. They were dishonest men who made a living as mercenary highway men and stealing from lonely travelers and the hardworking people of this village. I should have foreseen them setting their sights on this shrine but I fear I was too confident in my abilities of protecting the shrine. Age has made me slow and too overly-confident in my abilities I am afraid." He smiled at them and then turned to Mark. "And you are…?"

"Their tactician," he replied gruffly.

"A tactician?" the priest said. "A noble profession indeed."

Lyn frowned. "I'm sorry, sir, but…"

The priest chuckled. "You don't have to tell me, Lyn of the Lorca. I understand." He looked at Mark. "I am sure there is a reason this man did what he did but he still a part of your group and I must show my gratitude. I will allow you to lay your hands upon the Mani Katti – may its spirit guide and protect you on your journey."

Lyn gasped. "But sir…"

"Come with me, young kite," he said. "Let the spirit of the blade guide you and your flock." The priest smiled at her.

"Sir…?" Something in the priest's speech caught her attention and Lyn followed the priest. Kent and Sain trailed after her and Mark thumped along after.

The priest led them to a small alcove at the rear of the shrine where a sword rested on a pillow made of animal skins dyed all the colors of the rainbow and embroidered with delicate patterns. The blade bore the same patterns and the sword's dark hilt gleamed even in the dim light of the shrine.

Lyn felt her breath catch in her throat. "The Mani Katti…"

Again the priest smiled at her. "Touch the pattern on the blade, child," he said, "and pray for a safe journey."

Lyn reached out one hand and after a moment's hesitation rested it upon the blade. What happened next could not have been foreseen by anyone.

The patterns etched into the blade began to glow with a strange bright light and the blade itself became warm to the touch. The sparrow trinket around Lyn's neck began to feel heavier and she could once again feel its tiny little heartbeat against her flesh. It was all so strange and yet she couldn't help but feel that there was something _right_ about it as well.

Mark gasped in surprise and Kent and Sain watched on in fascination. The priest brought his hands together in prayer. "Never in my life did I think I would live to see the chosen wielder of the Mani Katti," he murmured. The light faded, and the priest looked at a bewildered Lyn. "It is the power of the spirits, child – they have looked into your soul and they called out to you."

"What does that mean?" Lyn asked. She still had not removed her hand from the blade.

"You are the rightful owner and wielder of the Mani Katti – you felt it when you touched the blade did you not? It called to you. If proof is what you require then draw the blade from its sheath."

Lyn did as the priest bade her and gasped in surprise when the blade came out the sheath effortlessly.

The priest smiled at her. "Lyn, proud daughter of the Lorca: this sword is yours."

* * *

That night the village celebrated Lady Lyndis' inheritance of the Mani Katti. The villagers crowded around her and marveled openly at the blade and the young Lorcan girl who wielded it. Sain watched in amusement as Lady Lyndis was surrounded by yet another group of admirers and took another sip of the root drink from the large tumbler in his hand.

"You know Kent," he said, "this stuff? It's not that bad."

Kent nodded and took a mouthful from his own tumbler. "It's a traditional herbal drink said to restore the drinker's energy and vitality, Lady Lyndis said."

"Really?" Sain asked. "It works – much better than the watered down black coffee they serve in the barracks."

"The innkeep gifted some to us for our journey back to Caelin," Kent replied. "Along with nearly half of his food stores."

Sain chuckled. "That's gratitude," he said. "I'm glad we could help these people – Glass and his men apparently made their lives miserable."

Lifting the tumbler to his lips again Kent nodded. He took a sip before answering. "What about Mark?"

Instantly Sain's expression turned sour. "I don't know," he said. "He always talks down to us and Lady Lyndis and today left us to fight in order to do Elimine knows what. I don't trust him at all."

Kent closed his eyes. "I don't, either."

"Say Kent," Sain said as he brushed his hair away from his face. "There's been something bothering me all day, ever since we came back from the shrine."

"What is it?"

"What if…" Sain swallowed. "What if Mark is Lundgren's man?"

For a moment Kent said nothing. "If that's the case then we must be on guard," he finally said, "especially around Lady Lyndis."

Sain nodded. "Should we inform Lady Cordelia?" he asked.

"Of course," Kent replied. "Immediately."

* * *

Mark stayed away from the festivities that night. He kept to himself near the stable behind the inn, leaning heavily against the stable walls as he smoked his pipe and looked at the dark sky as he lost himself in thought.

Let them think what they will, he finally decided, and with that snuffed out his pipe and limped back into the inn.

* * *

_My apologies for the delay in updating – I have become incredibly busy with many things and despite enjoying working on it this novelization is no longer high on my priority list. Thank you for understanding._

_Thank you for reading. As always feedback is appreciated – notes will be posted to Livejournal shortly._


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